


Chose Another Star to Follow to the End of the Universe this One is Broken

by victoriousscarf



Series: Beware of Heroes [7]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dune Setting, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:34:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5408330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let us talk of desperate revolts in our revolution as our fellows dance around us. Let us smile and pretend not to be bitter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chose Another Star to Follow to the End of the Universe this One is Broken

“This is pointless,” Curufin said, and Finrod wasn't looking at him.

“You could simply allow that people must enjoy themselves at some point,” he said and Curufin snorted.

“We are at war, dear cousin,” he said. They stood on the edge of the clearing, where fires had been lit in a circle. “This revelry has no purpose.”

“I take it to mean you do not intend to dance, then,” Finrod said and for a moment Curufin paused, his eyes sliding over. Finrod's short hair glowed in the firelight and he looked away just as abruptly.

“No,” he said shortly.

Finrod just laughed, a low and warm sound and Curufin's fingers twitched. They were standing too close to be proper, but far enough away Curufin couldn't touch him.

“It serves a purpose,” Finrod said, watching their fellows turn around the circle, laughing and dancing and pretending for just a moment they were not at war and likely to die on the marrow. “It gives people hope.”

“You're inane,” Curufin muttered, his eyes trailing to the opposite side of the clearing where Celegorm could barely be seen, prowling around in the shadows. “Not everyone needs or wants hope.”

“Ah,” Finrod said as Fingon slid into the clearing, his hair laced with golden beads. Finrod started counting them out of habit, the machines that Maedhros had destroyed, and the times he had sneaked into Fingon's quarters.

“There's a new one,” Curufin remarked, and Maedhros was already moving across the clearing, eyes bright in the firelight.

“I thought you already would have known of all your brother's exploits,” Finrod said.

“There are so many of them,” Curufin drawled and they both fell silent again, as Maedhros and Fingon met in the middle, Maedhros raising his remaining hand and Fingon smiling as he mirrored the motion, twining their fingers together. “It's sickening,” Curufin said.

“It's helping to raise moral,” Finrod said. “Something you're no good at.”

Curufin's eyes darted over to him and Finrod didn't turn his head.

“I remember when they were not so public,” Curufin said, an angry mutter. “I preferred that.”

“No one else does,” Finrod said as Fingon threw his head back, gold clanking and glittering and Maedhros, tall and gaunt and towering over him smiled, through the scars. “They like a good love story.”

Across the flickering space, Galadriel stood with her back straight and Celeborn at her side. He stood looser, head resting on her shoulder and one arm draped lazily around her waist. She looked like a pillar carved of cold stone except for the tiny curl of her lips, and the way her eyes would sometimes drift over.

Finrod's hands had turned into fists and they still did not touch across the space between them.

“I would rather discuss the problems of your jumps,” Curufin said.

“Not tonight,” Finrod winced.

“We lost three more ships—”

“All the more reason not to talk about it tonight,” Finrod said. “And even if we were going to talk about it, instead of commenting on my short comings why not offer your help.”

“Do I not have enough responsibilities?” Curufin snapped.

“Is the movement and safety of our fleet not perhaps the most important?” Finrod shot back and they drifted into silence again.

There was music and in the center of the clearing Fingon and Maedhros almost could not be seen, spinning in circles, their hands still entwined. Finrod caught a glimpse of Maedhros' smile again, behind Celebrimbor, the boy dancing with Orodreth who seemed caught between some happiness and pure confusion.

On the next turn around, Fingon's other hand had come up to cup Maedhros' cheek, the gentle pressure clear even from a distance. When the music changed, Galadriel held a hand out, and her and Celeborn drifted into the shifting center, arms wrapped around each other.

“Ah,” Finrod said. “Even Galadriel dances.”

“Even Turgon does,” Curufin said and Finrod's eyes snapped over to where Turgon was spinning with Idril, his face as severe as ever but her's bright.

“They look lovely,” Finrod smiled, trying not to think of the night on the ice when he was certain Turgon would follow his wife into the darkness and never come back.

“And yet your own father is not here,” Curufin said and Finrod tensed. “Still a traitor?”

“His position has not changed,” Finrod said, not looking over. “Your son oddly did not invite you to a dance either.”

As if summoned, Celebrimbor bounced over, reaching a hand out to Finrod and not Curufin. “You're not dancing?” he asked, smiling with sweat in the hollow of his throat. “But this is the night for it,” and he pulled Finrod with him, who went with a look over his shoulder at Curufin, frozen and angry behind him.

“If you command it,” he said. “I would gladly dance.”

“Than I command it,” Celebrimbor said, and sometimes it was all too easy to forget how young he was, until moments like this.

Giving him an indulgent smile, Finrod held his hands out, letting Celebrimbor take them, turning them around in a circle, following the crowd in their path.

Fingon and Maedhros had not lost their position in the middle, two generals and the most daring of their army showing their love and affection for everyone to see, to convince them of everything still worth fighting for.

Whoever had thought of this should be congratulated, Finrod decided, trying to focus on his movements and not theirs. It was a coup not only for their affection, but for everyone's weary souls.

At one point the partners traded off in a circle and Turgon came around to catch Finrod, Celebrimbor gladly pulling Caranthir into his orbit. “Are you enjoying yourself?” Turgon asked.

“Are you?” Finrod returned.

“That's not really the point, is it?” Turgon asked and Finrod frowned. “The point is that they see us and believe we are.”

“It is hard to be happy in times of war,” Finrod said and he gave up on the proper form, throwing his arms around the neck of his oldest and dearest friend, simply spinning them around instead of trying to follow the dance. “But we're making due, aren't we?”

He felt Turgon's huff of breath against his neck and he smiled against his shoulder. “We're making due.”

“Your daughter looks lovely tonight,” Finrod said, the one thing guaranteed to make Turgon brighten at all anymore.

“She looks more like her mother all the time,” Turgon said and Finrod's smile fell. “Finrod,” Turgon said, his voice serious and at odds with the atmosphere around them. “You know we must do something drastic to change the course of this war.”

“This isn't the time,” Finrod said, turning his head and seeing Curufin still standing on the edge of the forest. “This isn't the time for such talk.”

Turgon pressed his face down, muffling his words in Finrod's hair. “I've heard rumors,” he said and Finrod focused on keeping them spinning, his face blank to show nothing was amiss. “Of machines that left Morgoth's reign decades ago.”

“So?” Finrod whispered, because they were talking blasphemy in the middle of all the generals and leaders of their rebellion.

“They could help us,” Turgon said.

“If they're hiding from Morgoth, they might be impossible to find,” Finrod said.

“That's where the rumors come in,” Turgon said. “I think I know the way.”

“We're both needed here,” Finrod said. “I'm in charge of the fleet's navigation, I cannot run off—”

“We're losing and you know it,” Turgon said and there was a laugh, Finrod nearly jumping as they came too close to Fingon and Maedhros. “We need something to change this tide.”

“If these machines exist,” Finrod said. “If they can be found. If they can be convinced to help us. Do you realize what you would be asking people to accept?”

“Yes,” Turgon said.

Fingon finally pulled back and plastered a smile on his face so they would look less conspicuous. “I don't think you do,” he said.

“I promise I do,” Turgon replied.

Finrod glanced around, at where one of Feanor's bright haired twins was talking to Caranthir. His eyes darted around to make sure Celebrimbor was still out of ear range. “Alright,” he said and Turgon looked surprised. “You're right about one thing, we do need something.” He leaned close again. “I think you're mad but you're right and if this is the course you want to set this is the course we shall take.”

“It could be considered treason,” Turgon said.

“As if I'm not already aware of that,” Finrod said and they broke apart, Idril taking her father's hands again and Finrod desperate to be out of the press of people.

A cheer went up as he pushed his way through, and he turned his head to see Maedhros bent down, kissing Fingon and the light enveloped them, reflecting off the gold in Fingon's hair and the shadows of Maedhros' cheeks.

“What a picture they make,” Galadriel said at his elbow and he wanted to be sick.

“We need all the picturesque we can get,” he said with a hollow laugh. “And they are beautiful and in love.”

“And ruthless,” Galadriel added.

“Yes,” Finrod agreed and she let him go, the music and cheering echoing in his ears, mind already on how to get enough supplies to slip away for an insane quest.

But, he looked over his shoulder at where Turgon was speaking softly to his daughter, there were people worth doing anything for.

Turning back around, he came face to face with Curufin again.

“And still you refuse to dance,” he said with a wide smile and Curufin looked away.

“And still,” he muttered and Finrod had enough of revelry and so walked straight into the forest, back toward their ships. He heard Curufin quietly follow him and smiled to the darkness in front of him.  

**Author's Note:**

> I set out to write Fingon and Maedhros dancing annnnnd this happened instead go figure.


End file.
